


Damn

by quicksparrows



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Swearing, glory days i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:04:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8354425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksparrows/pseuds/quicksparrows
Summary: Jack owes Gabe, and so Jack deliiiiiiverrrrrrrrrrrsssssssss.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Giving @tsumugi something lighthearted to cling to before I start posting angsty shit again.
> 
> Also lol.

.

 

 

Jack walks into their room sucking on a water canteen. The image gets Gabriel's imagination going.

"Hey, you still owe me from our bet," Gabriel reminds him. He's almost chuckling, even when his voice dips to a warning: "Don't think I'll forget."

"Forget what?" Jack asks, just to be a pain.

Gabe passes a hand over his own groin and squeezes his cock through his pants. Jack snorts and grins; his blue eyes are bright, and Gabe feels a heaviness that isn't entirely of his own doing.

"Oh, right," Jack says. He takes a swig from his canteen and sets it down on the wardrobe, metal-on-wood. He rubs his hands together. "We agreed to that. Right now?"

"Well, I don't mean _right now_ ," Gabe says, amused.

Jack glances at his communicator; the time glints in the corner.

"Lunch isn't until three," he says. He raises his eyebrows for a second. "I mean, I do owe you."

"You do," Gabe agrees.

Jack steps into his space. He's barely an inch shorter than Gabe, and his shoulders are no less broad and his build no more prominent, but Gabe feels like a fucking king when Jack looks up at him that one inch, when their noses brush that close. He leans in, backing Gabe up against the ladder of his own bunk.

"Right now, then," Jack says, and he leans around Gabe to grab a pillow off the top bunk. He drops it on the ground under him as he sinks to his knees.

"What are you, ninety?" Gabe snorts.

"Shut up," Jack replies, and then he swipes his tongue over his lips. It's so practical that Gabe would almost love to lift his jaw and make him do it again while looking up, but he doesn't. His hands are occupied with his belt and fly, and he reaches in to pull out his half-hard cock while Jack rolls the spit around in his mouth.

"Whatever makes it comfortable for you," Gabe says, half-serious. And then he's really shutting up, as Jack starts with a long, broad lick around the head of his cock. His mind flatlines: Jack's lips are warm, his breath is warm, and as Jack takes the head of his cock into his mouth, the whole of his mouth is warm. Warm and wet.

Gabe leans back against the ladder of the bunk bed, a rung digging into his bare ass. His belt buckle clanks against the metal snaps on his cargo pants. Jack's fingers curl into the fabric bunched around his thighs, pawing them lower still.

And god, _fuck,_ Jack _hums_ as he starts, taking pulls that get deeper and deeper, but he's _slow._ It's maddening, and it makes Gabe want to push his head down with one broad palm, but he lets Jack take his time. His tongue –– fuck. His tongue swirls, the tip flutters –– fuck.

"Jack," Gabe says.

Jack's eyes flick up as his lips slip around Gabe's cock, deeper now.

"Ja–– uhh."

His fingers scrape across Jack's scalp, forking through his short hair. Jack makes a little noise as Gabe bottoms out at the back of his throat, hitting that soft spot that makes his mind fuzz over. Gabe moans, even as Jack gives a little wet cough before refocusing.

_God._

He rocks his hips a little, an odd-time little roll that Jack meets with enthusiasm — head bobbing, cheeks hollowing out, chin dribbling wet. What a fucking dog; Gabe loves it. Gabe loves _him._

(He grits his teeth to keep those kinds of words to himself. Nothing good could come of that.)

"Ugh," he groans, instead.

His fingers curl around a ladder rung. 

Jack bobs his head faster. His lips tug the slightest bit before dragging wetly, every breath like he's trying to inhale Gabe's entire length. Jack groans around his cock, and he slides a hand down, digs his fingers into Gabe's thick thigh. Gabe feels every muscle in his body tense, as if pointing to Jack, gesturing grandly: this man. THIS man, _god yes this man_. 

God fucking damn.

Gabe comes hard. He feels the air shoot from his lungs as he gasps, and his grip in Jack's hair tightens, but god, Jack doesn't let up –– he pushes deeper, keeping up the pressure, the tempo. Gabe doesn't get to give into the urge to just pant and heave and come, because Jack overwhelms him.

Jack _always_ overwhelms him.

There's a wet slurp. Gabriel starts up a moan that ends in a chuckle. Jack leans back on his heels; he pants, hand over his mouth, and he looks up with a grin, but he doesn't say anything.

Cocky shit. 

Gabe lets out a long exhale. His mind feels so fucking clear. He thinks that he's achieved some sort of perfect experience –– that there is nothing better, and he's never come harder. (He always thinks this, but then again, Jack gets better all the damn time.) He strokes Jack's hair. Next chance they get, he's going to fuck Jack _so_ good.

"Jack," Gabe groans. "Damn."

Jack wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a wet smear across his knuckles.

"Do you get blown by ninety year olds often?" he asks.

" _Foul_ ," Gabe says with a laugh, offering Jack a hand and pulling him to his feet.

Jack just chuckles and kisses him with salty lips. 

_Damn._


End file.
